


Season's greetings

by moustache_bonnet



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, First Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:47:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22332136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moustache_bonnet/pseuds/moustache_bonnet
Summary: It is shortly after Winter Holidays and the reader receives a long letter from their old sweetheart and friend, Lee Scoresby, in which he shares the adventure of spending his first Christmas with one Lyra Silvertongue.
Relationships: Lee Scoresby/Reader, Lyra Belacqua & Lee Scoresby
Kudos: 30





	Season's greetings

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet is a HDM Holiday Exchange gift for @leescaresby on Tumblr. Me and my Christmas helper had a lot of fun with it so we do hope you guys will enjoy all the fluff and sass. (I am not a native English speaker, grammar suggestions and feedback are appreciated.)
> 
> Thank you @La_Temperanza for the awesome letter code!

###### Season's greetings

You just came back home from a quick shop, stiff with cold and looking forward to a steaming, sweet cuppa. Before you even get the chance to strip the coat though, there comes a loud banging at the side of your narrowboat. With your dæmon at heel, you peer out the wall deck entrance.

“Where's the fire?” you muse, a puff of smoke appearing at your lips.

It's one of the kids; you can't quite remember her name but you have noticed her on many occasions before, venturing along the canal with a gang of friends. “Hullo, miss! I'm bringing some post!” she beams and hops onto the boat effortlessly, handing you a chunky envelope.

You recognize the handwriting immediately and hold your breath.

“Where did you get this?” you ask.

“Tony Costa gave it to me - they just returned from Denmark. He thought you ought to have it at once, miss!”

You thank the girl and return back inside. You undress in a hurry. Tense with excitement, you put the kettle on and open the envelope to find quite a few pages of light airmail paper covered in the dense hand of Lee Scoresby.

Propped against the kitchen counter, you read:

Dearest Y/N,

both Lyra and I apologize for the long radio silence - Winter Holidays had been busy. Don't fret, all is well. In fact, I feel unusual comfort and calm settling over me as I'm reliving the recent events which I want to share with You. 

As You might know, for some time I was all about work during this particular time of year because a traveling man doesn't need to be reminded of domesticity, unless there is someone somewhere waiting for him. This year I wanted this to change and make it perfect for Lyra - take some time off, a simple Christmas Eve dinner maybe. 

But I was a fool for not realizing that this was Lyra Silvertongue, so if You're guessing that the kid had a very different idea from the beginning, You'd be damn right. 

It all started in November. Lyra asked me for a wage, saying it was “only acceptable” for a “business partner” to be paid their fair share. I offered her 1% of everything we make. After some shouting we agreed on 3% and an extra bread roll with every dinner. After her first couple of dollars, she started sneaking around every port and town we visited, refusing to tell me where she'd been and what she'd spent the money on. 

A week before Christmas she simply DECLARED that we'd be spending it at Svalbard, that it was settled with the bears for weeks. I tried to explain how dangerous it was to fly North during deep winter, because of the atmospheric circulation and the cold which could leave us in quite a pickle, but my complaints were hardly taken into consideration. This is how, much to my disapproval, we have set to take off in the early morning of the 23rd, from the lovely island of Sørøya. 

I hate to be right, especially when it comes to trouble. We got caught in a strong current and landed badly shortly after crossing the sea. Our balloon's envelope was torn in one place and needed mending so it was clear to both of us, we are not making it to Iorek on time. Lyra was livid. 

After long minutes of sulking I suggested we make most of what we got. We had a few hours before the patch glue dried, so we lit a fire and made a meal of baked potatoes with some pickled cod on the side. We were lucky enough to crash-land on an open plane with hills behind our backs, and in the evening we were blessed with a beautiful spectacle of a sunset on the frozen, unbroken snow. Watching this extravaganza, we both somehow came to acceptance with our situation. 

Lyra timidly admitted that she was only unhappy because our friends would worry about us. And because they don't get to see their presents. Yes, You got that right. Presents. That is when I finally got to see what all that sneaking was about. 

She got them stacked behind a loose paneling which even I didn't know about. They were neatly wrapped in old newspaper and lunch bags, each tied with a bow of different color - some of them were silk. I couldn't tell You where she got those if You killed me. 

I needn't remind You how poorly stacked Trollesund or Novy Odense are with nice things, so You can imagine the kind of items Hester and I had gotten - some spare valves, a battered marine chronometer and a bag of dry smokeleaf all the way from Cathay. 

There were more packages on side, which she said were for Iorek and Serafina. (As I later discovered, it was a can of some kind of shark blubber for the former and similarly exotic herbs for the latter. Hell, she even sourced small presents for the other witches; except Juta Kamainen because of reasons I believe You are familiar with. As she decently put it “Juta Kamainen ain't getting shit.”) 

We spent the rest of the evening huddled at the fire, playing Peril of the Pole Lyra “borrowed” from the last pub we visited (I don't know where she is getting this from). The board game reminded me of You and that one night we spent at Hjemmeluft, as always. Morning was clear; we managed to avoid the bad air flows and by the next evening we had arrived at Iorek's palace, where we currently still remain. 

Now, knowing You as I do, I would probably find you laughing our disastrous Christmas Eve off, but Y/N darling, I've never felt more loved in my life. (Though it is not a matter of discussion I should learn how to put my boot down, otherwise our little adventure could end soon were Lyra to make the decisions for both of us any longer. Not that mine are any less terrible.) 

I hope Your Holidays have been equally pleasant and that You're well, my dear. 

Give our love to John Faa, Coram and the Costas. 

I'll be awaiting Your next letter with anticipation. 

Take care and best wishes, 

_Lee and Hester_

And right underneath the signatures, you read: _and Lyra and Pan_ , scribbled in a different, messy hand; together with a crossed-out postscriptum: 

P.S. Lyra reminds me that I should also include our sighting of Joulupukki, ~~which I would rather not. (It was a flock of wild geese.)~~


End file.
